Release
by HeroineGauddess
Summary: Tumblr prompt: Vemily smut. One-shot, please R&R!


**Author's Notes:** Again, I was anonymously requested to write Vemily smut. For the record, I totally came at this with the intent of doing just that. But the further I went, it turned into...something else.

I don't think this was quite what Anon might have had in mind and I apologize.

Nevertheless, _please_ let me know how I did!

* * *

Once long locks are sufficiently clipped up and away, she lays her head back upon the cast iron edge, reclining against the slipper, and sinks deeper beneath the steaming cauldron of foam that's doing a fabulous job of alleviating the tension already. The aroma of her favored scented candles strategically placed about the room fill it with flickering embers of their wicks, accompanied by the faint fizz of the bath oil. Muscles loosen and joints relax, and here Victoria finally heaves a deep sigh of content. As much as she loves all her children dearly, the brunette is thankful she doesn't have to deal with them tonight. And what with charity parties to plan, benefits to host, luncheons, dinners and galas, and the combination of stress they emit has worn her out; seeking refuge in the first morsel of peace she's been able to acquire for herself in what seems like far too long.

Soon her eyelids begin to hang heavy and she relents slipping them closed, soaking in what little absolve she can before she's forced to return to the throne. One of many burdens of being queen.

A soft tap sounds by the door which alerts Victoria's eyes to snap open menacingly at a slender figure of a shadow frozen in place, their hold still grasping the knob and offering an uneasy smile. The slight bleached hue of unruly blonde hair is an immediate indication through the darkened corner of who exactly dares to intrude upon her, and in such a private state.

"I knew I'd regret arming you with a key to the house," she groans, gaze rolling away in annoyance and mouth curling at the lip, "Not that you ever had the need for one."

Emily continues her creep toward the clawfoot tub and settles down beside it on her knees, the older woman's weak attempt at scolding her, discarded. "Mind if I join you?"

Victoria's neck whips around so fast the rest of her body jostles, gently sloshing water just inside. "Did you smack your head on the pavement when we last spoke?" she looks at her pointedly, then swiftly gestures at the door again with her eyes, "Amnesia is all I can think of that would have cause for this premature visit."

The younger woman's features crease with offense. _Fuck_, she thinks, "Are you tightly wound, or what."

"Did you even give a thought as to what would be done if anyone saw you sneaking in here, dressed like some—" Victoria's arm stiffens a moment in midair, her words dissolving on her tongue as she has to do a double take in regards to the blonde's attire.

"Just what in hell, exactly, are you wearing?" she gawks in distaste after a pause.

As if Emily had forgotten her choice of clothing, she glances down at herself before smirking again in that arrogant way she does that just absolutely grits Victoria's teeth.

"Suddenly my bed felt awfully empty and cold," the blonde says, slowly standing to reveal the entirety of her knee length trench coat, fingers unwrapping the ties at her waist. "But now I've come to realize you need this more than I do."

The apparel shortly falls away in following with a muffled slap on the floor and exposes nothing but bare, fair skin; perky breasts and all. As tempting as the other woman is being at the moment, Victoria can't help but be deterred by more pressing matters.

"Emily," she whispers, pleadingly. Languidly. "Must you do this? I hardly think this is the time nor the place."

The blonde bends forward and lifts her leg to draw it over the lip of the bathtub, proceeding to dip it in the water, doing the same with her opposite once she gains purchase of footing, then lowers the rest of the way down. Flaxen tresses and perked nipples are dusted with sponge-like snow as Emily crawls atop the older woman until she's able to nestle perfectly between her legs. All the while, against her better judgment and bit begrudgingly, Victoria adjusts and positions herself accordingly for the younger woman to do so.

"Emily," she repeats, swallowing. Despite the raspy tone, the woman's namesake can only guess it's because of their such close proximity after such an extended time apart. "Charlotte's just down the hall, not to...not to mention...Patrick in the adjacent room..."

The blonde continues to slither her arms on either side of Victoria and plants them firmly before leaning her weight forward, craning her neck so her face hovers just a breath away from the brunette's own, that which has suddenly become quite breathless. Victoria's head pivots and tilts on the base of her skull to somehow obtain, or at least appear to have, the upper hand when it's abundantly clear who does, if Emily's lust-fixated stare is anything to go by.

"Rest assured, Mrs Grayson, your dirty little secret remains to be seen from prying eyes,"

All the brunette seems she's able to do is gaze longingly at those full scarlet lips, that if either of them were to make the slightest move forward would they meet. Victoria knows perfectly well what Emily's doing. They've played this game many times before, and no matter how strong her resolve may be in the beginning, she's screwed one way or another.

And damn if her core wasn't already throbbing with need to point that the mere thought of rejecting the younger woman was painful.

Emily's head darts out of sight one second, her warm breath hitting Victoria's ear the next as she whispers, the humidity causing little hairs nearby to curl, and the older woman involuntarily shivers.

"And if you're quiet...I'll remain to be heard from prying ears as well."

Victoria resists the urge to roll her eyes, _the gall of her_. The blonde always did have such conceited pillow talk. But she smirks nonetheless, because damn if it doesn't stoke the fire.

Teeth nips at her earlobe, tugging and pulling before a tongue soothes the ache. Idle hands claw their way up opposite sides of the bathtub, knuckles whitening from the grip, and a plump lip draws in and disappears into her mouth. From there, an insufferable path licks along her jawline and the brunette vaguely detects something swim past her hip. Her brain then scrambles desperately for a coherent thought due to the touch of digits fingering her where they're needed most.

The older woman's spine arches into Emily, aqua whirlpooling around them as the areola of their breasts briefly brush together, and the blonde grins wickedly into her neck. It's almost second nature for the younger woman to automatically assume a straddling position over Victoria's stomach while taut legs bend at the knee and bump into her elbows.

There's something to be said about the boost you feel when you're able to untether any lover. So for Emily to manage this endeavor from the with-a-captial-v Victoria, who she had discovered held the tightest of tension and took pleasure in the simplest of things, went without saying.

She continues to kiss and bite while running the pads of her fingers through the brunette's folds, making sure to scratch, too, with the tips of her nails; rubbing, massaging. Kneading on that sensitive bundle of nerves. The blonde's press is erratic but firm as she transitions between stroking and circling, slowing up and gaining speed. The motion creating gentle waves which ride with them.

Victoria's mewling like the pussycat she is and Emily lifts her head. The blonde had vowed long ago that she would be the undoing of this very woman and wouldn't stop until she had her begging and writhing beneath the rule of revenge. Who knew she'd find herself here, about to do exactly that, without malevolent intent behind it. Instead replaced with an incessant need to relieve fueling her on. Savoring it all the same.

And savor it, she does.

Victoria slowly opens her eyes, unbeknownst to when they'd closen again, and quizzically seeks for the brown of Emily's. She expects the hue of them to have darkened, dilated pupils amid narrowed slits. She anticipates a plunging sensation to occur of two or more slender extremities. Yes, even the tacky imprecations, Victoria presumes—and secretly desires—a lot from Emily Thorne.

What she finds isn't that.

The noise has died to a mute and the younger woman peers at her lovingly, vision blurred and the corners of her mouth stretching wide. The brunette instantly becomes apprehensive. She's extremely vulnerable right now and to have anyone, Emily in particular, practically ogle her this way makes her feel utterly anxious. Its taken a lot on her part to have grown thus far in their...whatever this was, to allow her scars to show.

It's one thing to be seen without clothes on, it's entirely another to be seen naked. And right now? The masks are off and she's lying before the last person she thought she ever would, exposed and raw, and permitted into her innermost depths.

_Does she even realize_, Victoria thinks for a split second before retreating. _You fool_, she tenses, inwardly cursing herself. It's a trap because she isn't ready for this. _It's too soon_, she thinks, how could she be so stupid as to compromise herself.

Watching this unfold, Emily is quick to amend with a unconscious shake of her head. "Hey," she blurts, straightening to balance her weight upon her knees and bringing her free hand up to caress her thumb across the older woman's gorgeously high cheekbone while her palm cups the underside of Victoria's chin. "Stay with me."

She catches a runaway tear when the brunette blinks and she'd swear to have felt the faintest of quivers. But somehow in the short time it took Victoria to cast a wayward glace around the room, Emily had convinced her in lowering her defenses.

"Why did you stop?" asks Victoria, so gingerly, so timidly that the blonde can't help let out an amused breath and give a look of fascination.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Emily says. "I guess I just got caught up in you."

She loves the wrinkles that appear upon the brunette's forehead, the way her brows angle down and the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She adores every crack, every imperfection. But the words that follow speak from bitterness she wishes she could wipe away.

"I much prefer it when you blow lewd nothings in my ear," she purrs, then smiles icily.

Emily removes both her hands, her turn to recoil. "Don't do that."

"Do _what_?"

It infuriates her that Victoria honestly doesn't know, anything. "Treat me like...I'm not Conrad,"

The older woman's head jerks back on her neck because that was the entirely wrong thing to say and Emily silently berates herself for it. She groans in search for the right words and runs her fingers through her now damped straight hair.

"What I'm trying to say is, I'm—I don't say these things just to fuck you, Victoria!"

"Lower your voice!" hisses the brunette, sitting up as best she can given the body trapping her reclined as she is. "Or else you'll wake the whole house."

The blonde steals a pause to collect her bearings and takes a deep through her nose in order to calm herself. "I didn't come here to fight—"

"Then pray tell what _are _you here for?"

The older woman is agitated, that much she can tell. Her chest heaves just below the water line, rising and receding in the cleft of her natural cleavage. The bubbles have gone, leaving that watery-cream residue in its wake. Emily sympathizes because she also understands. It isn't because Victoria's necessarily angry with her or the words that were said, or that there are dozens of reasons why they shouldn't do what they do, time and again, or that she even wants one from Emily.

It's the intimacy. The closeness they share. It makes it real, touchable, felt, and that terrifies her.

It scares the blonde too, but she wants to touch. She wants to be felt in the way that only Victoria has been able to perceive. Perhaps, God help her, Emily wants their...relationship, affair, whatever it's called, to be real.

The fact that she hasn't yet been pushed away, hasn't been told to leave or essentially thrown out, maybe...just maybe Victoria wants it, too.

So as she leans forward, deliberately looking her straight in the eyes, "You," the younger woman murmurs, with such clarity that her movements take on a mind of its own, and captures the brunette's lips.

It's just a peck because she doesn't want to force herself upon her. It's a question, a test, a bait.

"I want you," she admits when she pulls away, then quickly kisses her again. "I want all of you," Little by little, Victoria's resistance melts and she dares her to deny it. "For myself," Another peck. "Nobody else."

To her reprieve, the older woman slowly responds, deepening those peeks to full-fledged french kisses until her arms have wound tightly around Emily's neck. When they break apart, does the blonde regard the tracks lightly leaking down the other woman's face.

"I'm sorry,"

"It's okay," Emily shushes, snaking her hand between their bodies, taking this as her consent and she touches.

She slips a single finger inside first, her thumb pushing off the brunette's clit as she pumps softly. Victoria's breathing hitches but her gaze never wavers. A second digit is introduced without missing a beat and Emily's rewarded with a gasp, hips rolling in time. She starts to thrust deeper and quickens the pace, inner walls beginning to constrict, though it isn't enough. Not quite.

Hypnotized by the affects of her own ministrations, she forgets herself, focused solely on her lover's building orgasm. Moans soon turn into whimpers when a third is added, working back and fourth, back and fourth. Twist, flick. In and out, in and out.

The instant Victoria throws her head back and opens her mouth, Emily snaps out of her trace just in time to crash her lips against the brunette's, swallowing her cry. Husk growls vibrate against the blonde's teeth as the older woman's climax takes hold of her body, sending heavenly shudders through every nerve.

Emily's fingers gradually slow to a leisure rub and Victoria tears her face away for much needed air as the blonde continues to drop wet kisses everywhere she can. It isn't until her breathing returns to normal does the younger woman pull out of her and maneuvers around so she can lay back over Victoria's front.

"You selfish little girl," mutters the brunette. "How easily you forget."

A ghost of a smile twitch the corners of Emily's mouth as arms worm their way around her, drawing her flush against alabaster skin, still buzzing from its high, as she nuzzles into the embrace.

"I'm already yours."


End file.
